


Best Friend Forever Even When Making Me Do Ridiculous Shit For Him

by Sourwoif



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire, Drama, Fluff, Gen, Humor, M/M, Mostly Stiles Rambling, not much of cora and scott at all really dont worry bout that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sourwoif/pseuds/Sourwoif
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Scott, I swear to god, if you think I’m standing here in the California sun for five fucking hours in case your poor object of affections ends up coming this way, then I will shove a pineapple right up your—“ </p><p>“Woah- woah, c’mon man, you promised.” </p><p>--<br/>In which Stiles tries to help Scott score a date, and ends up scoring instead.</p><p>*Now a Series of Oneshots related to one another*</p><p>*Updated Regularly*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Eyebrows

            “You realize this is really not the smartest thing in the world.”

            “I know- just- just help me, okay? You can make fun of me later.”

            “We’re watching Star Wars later.”

            “Oh my god, fine, just shut up and help.”

 

            And that was how Stiles ended up helping Scott pull off this ridiculous stunt. Seriously, who the hell even did this anymore? Stiles wrinkled his nose in irritation but continued working on the stupid poster. He was a _man_ , why the hell was he still touching glitter.  With the grace of a drunken walrus, he dumped the bucket of noxious sparkle particles onto the poster, smirking in triumph. It wasn’t his apartment after all, fuck you very much Scott. The glitter infiltrated his nose and he sneezed, sniffling a bit as he shook off the rest from the poster and staring at his completed work. In large, obnoxious letters it read:

**_You’re So Pretty and Witty that I Feel Giddy. Will you go out with me please? <3 <3 <3 - Scott_ **

            Just because Stiles really hated Scott for wasting two hours of his life for this, he added, “I lick goats for a living” in pencil after the please. But then he felt bad and erased it almost immediately after. It wasn’t that it was too cruel to write or anything. The fact remained that it was his duty as Scott’s best friend to help him get a girlfriend when he needed it- and _god_ , did Scott need a girlfriend. It had been almost three years now since he and Allison had split. Not that there was any ill will towards her- no, no, they were still all good friends, even with Isaac.  Scott had taken them getting together pretty well, considering…well, he _still_ had that ugly ass tattoo on his arm.

            So that was why Stiles was where he was at the moment, not getting drunk, nor getting laid. Okay, maybe the latter wouldn’t be happening at _any_ moment in his life, but it was still a much more fun alternative to glittery poster making. He stood up and shook off the cardboard, not even bothering to feel guilty about getting that shiny devil fart dust all over Scott’s carpet. He sent his BFFEWMMDRSFH (best friend forever even when making me do ridiculous shit for him) a quick text that part one of Mission: Get the Glaze on My Donut was complete. Now, it was time for set up.

**

            “Scott, I swear to god, if you think I’m standing here in the California sun for _five fucking hours_ in case your poor object of affections ends up coming this way, then I will shove a pineapple right up your—“

            “Woah- woah, c’mon man, you _promised._ ”

 

            There he was again. Doing something stupid because of his stupid friend who was pathetic and annoying and did he mention stupid? Letting out a huff, Stiles scuffed his foot against the cement and squinted up at the sun. Fuck. He pulled out his compact sun block and reapplied a healthy amount to his face and arms because yeah, maybe he didn’t lobster quite as easily as other pale, pasty ass white people, but he was still exactly that: a pale, pasty ass white person. While he was busy trying to rub the sticky concoction into his skin, he almost didn’t notice a sudden presence of oncoming death near him. Freezing, he slowly shifted his line of sight from his slightly hairier than expected arms and- oh god, since when did the grim reaper possess porn star models from Europe?

            “Why are you standing on the side of the road, and why have you _been_ standing on the side of the road for the last two hours?”

            Wow, that was _so_ not the voice he’d been expecting. He’d been expecting something a little bit more…well, growly and husky. That was a rather high pitched voice considering the guy seemed to have more testosterone in a single eyebrow than Stiles had in his entire lower body. That is until he stared at the guy for a while longer- and hello, there you are testosterone, making your way downtown. Honestly, _why_ was this man wearing a tight, black V-neck in the middle of a Californian summer? Not to mention the really snug looking jeans and boots.

            “Um. Uh. Well- uh-“ Right, yes, hand gestures, confused tourist hand gestures, that should distract the model in front of him long enough for a planned escape. Sadly, the attempt of escape was foiled when a really strong hand shot out and holy _god that hurt-_ “Ow-owow- let go-letgo!”

            Stiles tried to flail off the offending hand-claw gripping his upper arm. He was a man, but he wasn’t super human, unlike the fine specimen trying to rip him apart. The man grunted and just jerked Stiles forward so he could effectively glare into the depths of his mole covered soul.

            “Why are you here.” Oh, so eyebrow man knew how to growl apparently. It would be sexier if said eyebrow man wasn’t looking like he was about to rip Stiles’ throat out. With his teeth. Actually, it was still pretty sexy.

            “That- That wasn’t really a question y’know- Ow _fuck_ okay! Jesus, I’m just being a good friend!” That loosened the death hold just a tad, but not nearly enough because there was currently _another_ hand gripping him by the front of the shirt as well. Chances of escape were looking pretty slim.

            “What does that mean.” Seriously, did the guy have an aversion to raising his voice a little so his questions actually sounded like questions? Maybe he was self-conscious about his average voice.

            “So my buddy Scott, do you know Scott? Aha-ha-ow- well, uh, see he really likes this girl who lives- oh well...you know, over yonder there…” Stiles did his best to motion with his free arm and only succeeded in nearly smacking the stranger in the face, which earned him a somehow more vicious glare. “-and he needed to know when to show up to ask her out so he begged me on his knees to come here and uh…stand watch.” Okay, this entire plan sounded _much_ less creepy and stalker-y in his head.

            “….” Oh god, the eyebrow was arching- code red- code red, the guy was bitch facing him.

            “Look, I know it sounds really bad- I mean- _really bad_ \- but I swear Scott is harmless, he’s just really goofy and likes glitter and he doesn’t know how ask a girl out like a normal human being and-“

            “Shut up.”

            Before Stiles could snap an irritated retort, he was being let go and oh that’s what it feels like to have blood actually flowing through your arm. He fidgeted under the stare of the eyebrow man. Damn, if only he had run away then…But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he caught sight of a certain lady pulling into her driveway and, part two was on a roll. “One second.” He did his best impression of a busy CEO with a blue tooth and raised a pointer finger to halt whatever the hell tall, dark, and broody wanted to sneer at him. He pulled out his phone and shot off a text to Scott, and it was just really pathetic how quickly he could hear the screech of a motorcycle zooming up right next to him.

            “Really, Scott?” Stiles couldn’t help gritting his teeth, because at the speed at which Scott arrived meant that his dumbass of a friend had been _a block away the entire time_. “You had me stand out in the fucking sun for two hours while you were literally right here the entire time?!” The bastard had the decency to look abashed at least.

            “I was feeling nervous.” The dope shrugged helplessly, sliding off the motorcycle and pulling off his helmet stiffly. “I think I’m ready.” Scott gulped and grabbed the large poster from the back of the bike.

            Stiles had forgotten all about Mr. McBroody until he heard someone clear their throat passive aggressively. What a shit. He quirked an eyebrow right back at the guy, even if his eyebrow would lose the battle to the caterpillar resting on the other guy’s face. “What?”

            “That’s not going to work.” Oh, he was looking at the cheesy ass poster currently being held in Scott’s hands almost reverently. With pursed lips, Stiles shrugged and crossed his arms.

            “Well, no one asked you. So go away.” Real mature, no really, obviously that’s all it took to make unwanted opinions and people go away. _If only_.

            “Whatever.” And just like that, the guy walked off… right to the girl’s house. Wait- What the fuck?! He felt his jaw drop a little as he stared wide-eyed at the asshole that just _walked inside her house with a key in his hand._

            “Are you fucking kidding me?! She has a boyfriend?!” Stiles rounded on Scott next, because fuck this shit, “Why the _hell_ are you trying to ask someone who is clearly taken, you freaking home wrecker?” And yeah, okay, maybe he was overreacting a little, but he was hot, and sweaty, and tired, and he was still finding glitter in his hair no matter how many times he showered, he had a right to be angry. Of course, the anger faded when he noticed the crushed look on Scott’s face. Shit. That meant that he hadn’t known about the boyfriend either. “Look man-“

            “I didn’t know.” Scott croaked, and oh god his lip was quivering a little and his crooked jaw was clenched and _shit_. You know what? Fuck this. He wasn’t going to let his bro get shot down after all this work. Scott had put more work into this than he had for his Calculus final for god’s sakes.

            “Come on. I choked on too much glitter for this all to go to waste.” Stiles muttered, wrapping an arm around Scott’s shoulders and all but dragging him up to the doorstep. His tanner friend was still looking like a kicked puppy, shoulders hunched and picking at the poster held up in front of him glumly. Knocking on a door was a surprisingly simple way to show how you felt, knock hard enough, and the person inside can probably guess how irritated you are. So, Stiles was almost willing to kick the damn thing down to show how freaking irritated he really was, but instead, he did the polite thing and rang the doorbell.

            “Coming!” Oh, thank the lord; it was the girl’s voice. If it had been that angry browed guy, Stiles would have kneed him as soon as the door opened. And then ran like a little bitch, but the first part is more important. As soon as the door opened, Stiles plastered on a grin, and Scott, bless his easy to please soul, visibly brightened up, his face scrunching up in that adorable, lopsided smile he got whenever someone he was love-struck by was near. “Um, Scott? What…”Her eyebrows shot up, they reminded him of the broody douche for some reason, “… Oh wow.” She looked like she was barely keeping her eyebrows from shooting off her face with how incredulous she looked. Scott being himself, just kept smiling like an idiot and holding the poster up like a proud toddler returning from his first day at kindergarten.

            “I’m flattered but…” Stiles inwardly cringed, because here was the part where she was going to say ‘I have a boyfriend’, “I’m not really looking for a relationship right now, how about we just hang as friends instead?” _What._

            “Wh-Sure!” _No, Scott, NO._ Stiles stared at his friend in horror, because all that glitter was for nothing now. He turned his head slowly to look over the now smiling girl’s shoulder to the dark figure lurking behind her. The eyebrow guy was silently laughing, shoulders shaking, mouth closed firmly shut in an almost grimace, eyes crinkling in amusement. What a _dick_. “Did you- uh…wanna take a ride on my bike- actually?” Wait what.

            “Really?” Her eyes brightened a little, and, damn, she looked so happy and that meant- and there they both went. Stiles looked down into his arms where Scott shoved the poster, and then at the spot where the motorcycle had once stood.

            “Are you fucking kidding me.” Stiles said in disbelief, and the silent laughter from the dick in the house turned into full blown laughter. He whirled around, ready to point and start cussing the guy out, but he cut off because god _damn_ the man was fine. He hadn’t had much time to really notice before because he had thought he was going to be murdered by a guy who took neighborhood watch really seriously, but now...

            “Did you want to come inside? They’re not going to be back for a while.” Him talking snapped Stiles out of his drooling, and he quickly nodded before he knew what the hell his body was doing. By the time his daze had lifted, he was sitting on a couch next to a stranger with a can of coke in his hand.

            “Uh. So. I’m uh- Stiles.” He couldn’t help the slight squeak in his voice, chugging the Coca Cola and barely holding back tears when the carbonated drink burned down his parched throat. No matter how much chest hair he got, that pain was not one easily withstood.

            “Derek. Sorry about before, I thought you were a…” Queue the awkward clearing of throats. And fuck. Derek. As in Cora’s _brother_ Derek. “Sorry about Cora, she isn’t really ready for a relationship. She mostly just needs friends right now.”

            He barely kept himself from saying ‘ _Are you by any chances ready for a relationship right now?’_ Because chances were he’d fuck up just trying to say that sentence, because for some odd to given reason, what came out of his mouth was never quite as smooth as what was in his head.

            “Y-yeah….the stuff you do for friends, right? Ha...ha.” He chugged his soda even faster to keep his mouth occupied because otherwise it started moving on its own and eventually offended someone. Whoops, the can was empty and his mouth was unoccupied. Stiles nervously licked his lips and shifted on the couch, trying really hard not to stare at the Adonis before him. Wait- did Derek seem to lean forward a bit just when he’d licked his lips? Maybe he was just overanalyzing again. No, _obviously_ he was overanalyzing. Even though he was certain he had pretty good looking lips, he was much more certain that Derek saw prettier ones every day. Hot jackass. Okay, you know what, now he couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility that Derek liked his lips. He wasn’t a lusty bar wench, but damnit, when you saw men like Derek you didn’t just ignore possible signs of attractions.

            “I like your couch, it’s comfortable.” He stretched his arms above his head, taking a deep breath in and “subtly” biting his lip as he- oh-fuck! Bad idea- bad, bad idea- Stiles sputtered and stuck out his tongue, which he’d bitten with the seduction rivaling that of Honeybooboo’s mother. While he was currently trying to stare at his tongue to check if it was bleeding, he caught the sound of an almost wheeze and looked up to see Derek holding back laughter once more. Oh fuck, this was the second time the guy was laughing at Stiles in the last hour. Feeling his cheeks flush, Stiles bolted up, muttering something about having things to study for and how he really needed to get back to his dorm and-

            “I was thinking about heading out for dinner…did you want to-“

            “Oh my god, yes, take me.”

            “What?”

            “What?”

 

And that was how he’d gotten a date while failing to help Scott get one. Moral of the story: never complain about having a BFFEWMMDRSFH.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come~


	2. I Like Like You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spaghetti really does work, doesn't it?

                Not often did he ever do the laundry, but he sure as hell separated his darks and whites, washed them with the most expensive possible detergent and then ironed them like a good little housewife when _Derek_ was coming over. Why was he doing laundry because someone was coming over? Because that someone had the freaking nose of a bloodhound, and would always subtly comment, “Smells like someone’s been lazy.” That fucker. That hot, amazing, really hot, sexy fucker. He didn’t usually spaz for others, and he probably never would again, it was _exhausting_. But, something about Derek made him willingly clean, cook, and nearly break his spine bending over backwards in a rather ungraceful manner. Stiles was busy hanging his clothes and muttering to himself that this shit was ridiculous and why did he even bother trying to impress Derek when the knock on the door roused him from his thoughts.

                Sweet merciful gods, his broody _something_ was here. Yeah, he was still working on a title for Derek, it was getting hard not to avoid boyfriend. After six “outings” to mostly each other’s house, you would think one of them would ask, “Hey, are we going out?” But then, they hadn’t ever really done anything, either because Derek is a gentleman or more likely because Stiles revolted him. They _had_ hugged on the second date, and he swore Derek brushed his hand against Stiles’ arm on purpose during the fifth. Shut up, he was well aware that he was pathetic. The fact of the matter was, Stiles was too much of a pussy to ask the question, and Derek probably never thought about it, which was depressing because Stiles thought about it all the time. Ah, right, back to the matter of Mr. Hotstuff waiting for him behind the door.

                “Heeey, Derek.” He stumbled a little in his rush to open the door, the almost constant slight smirk on Derek’s face. Fuck you Derek, fuck you and your beautiful face and cute rabbit teeth that Stiles would never mention because then the guy who was already sparse with his smiles might look like he was sucking a lemon all the time instead.

                “We going out today, or just staying in and watching movies again?” Derek waltzed in like he owned the place, and honestly, Stiles would let him own the place, he really would- because that would mean being able to watch him walk inside the small house all the time and boy, was the view great. It took him a moment to realize he’d been asked a question, and he shut the door behind Derek.

                “I um…well- I actually made dinner.” At the incredulous and rather offensive look of surprise, Stiles shrugged defensively, “I _cook_ , it’s not that hard. I only burned my finger once. Or twice.” Or five times. “I was thinking we could go for a walk or something afterwards…to uh- y’know, burn calories.” He gave his flat stomach a pat to emphasize his point. What was he trying to emphasize? He had no clue, because his stomach was _still_ flat despite the copious amounts of junk food he’d been eating with Derek at his side, thank you genetics for his metabolism.

                “Sounds good.” And off Derek was, gracefully walking into his kitchen with that tight ass of his- what? Damn, he really needed to find a release for his unresolved sexual tension, this was ridiculous _._

                “Why didn’t you just smell food and realize that I made it?” He leaned back against the counter and unashamedly watched Derek bend over to look into the oven and examine the food, no doubt to make sure it was edible. However, Stiles couldn’t complain because he currently had a really nice view of tight jeans straining against the muscles of a sex god’s lower body.

                “Because it was more believable that you’d ordered takeout this morning and decided to save some for later. I always assumed…” _That you cooked like the average college student_ , Stiles added in his head to keep the pause in Derek’s words to be insulting.

                “When will you learn that assumptions about me are almost always wrong?” Stiles smirked and nudged Derek out of the way to pull the spaghetti and garlic bread out of the oven. Maybe it wasn’t the best meal to prove his cooking prowess, but it was also one of the most generic, “romantic” date foods there were. Actually, on that note, why the fuck was spaghetti, or any pasta on that note, romantic food? Maybe the sight of your date slurping up saucy noodles and spattering sauce everywhere was meant to be an early warning to what kind of eater they were. Was that even sexual? Was that how seduction worked? He didn’t even want to attempt to think about that, no one needed him trying to be seductive ever again.

**

                All in all, it wasn’t the worst meal, but it was slightly dampened because it didn’t even feel like a goddamn date. _Why do you do this to me, Derek?_ Stiles mentally begged, quietly chewing his garlic bread and looking at anything but Derek, who was casually eating and _not talking_. Okay, yes, Stiles usually powered the conversations, but whenever he opened his mouth to say something, either _he_ had noodles in his mouth, or Derek did- and so he aborted the question, and damnit he should have made soup. Oh, and did he mention that Derek eats his spaghetti like a porn star? No, really, the whole licking the fingers and lips and sucking without slurping shebang. So now, Stiles had both an uncomfortable boner, and an uncomfortable silence to deal with. At least Mr. Supersniffer couldn’t smell hard ons, that would be hard to explain.  HA. Stiles cheered to himself. Wow, he was hilarious.

                “I can’t take this anymore.” Stiles set down his garlic bread and did his best to keep from looking like a distraught, preteen girl whose first date wasn’t going perfect. Derek silently raised his eyebrows at him in that ‘I might be judging you’ manner and finished chewing his bite painstakingly slow before swallowing. Stiles did _not_ follow the sight of the Adam’s apple bobbing just slightly. Ugh, he could practically feel his balls turning blue.  “Do you like like me?” Okay, wow, _no_. That was supposed to come out much more mature. The extremely amused look on Derek’s face proved that Stiles was a dumbass.

                “Do I…like like you.” Derek repeated with those eyebrows still perched up, mocking him. “Well, Stiles, I don’t know about like like, afterall we’re just so new at this, I think like liking someone is better saved for when we reach the fifth grade.” He casually sipped his water, seriously how did the man sip water so perfectly, it was only meant to happen in commercials and movies.  Wait, what the hell did he just say? That fucker! Stiles flushed and frowned with his whole face in a manner that Scott had once told him made him look like he was angrily pouting because his lips were just never meant to frown. Let it work to his advantage then.

                “Fine, do you see yourself plowing me, or me plowing you against the wall until either the plaster breaks or you do in the near or far future- just in the future in general?” Now that was just really dirty- and now his dick was supplied with an idea. Great. It didn’t help the judgmental eyebrows were now impossibly high, and Derek had a rare smile on his face.

                “I was hoping for a bed, but I guess a wall works too.” And YES, that was all the answer he needed before Stiles was reaching over the table and jerking Derek forward. Maybe the kiss was a bit more of a desperate mashing of faces at first, but it turned much better after Derek helped by gripping Stiles’ upper arms and moving them from the table and _hello he was pinned to a wall_. He wasn’t proud of the way his arms flailed for a moment before settling on Derek’s hips, but he was _very_ proud of being able to wrench a groan from the eyebrow model when he just about pulled Derek to him so close that not even an atom could get between their flush bodies.  “I…had a plan…” Derek managed to get out between Stiles’ many rough and suck filled kisses, which meant Stiles was doing wrong because no, Derek, no more talking. Talking time is dead and gone.

                “Fuck your plan and fuck you. Or me. Both.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oho. And sorry for no smut, I might add it in later chapters, but for now we leave off on aggressive making out. I don't mind people supplying me with ideas, so if you have an idea for a chapter, don't hesitate from shoving my face in it. Woo, continuous oneshots. I'll be adding to this collection every now and again.


	3. Trust Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’ve been dating for four freaking months! You couldn’t have just whispered in my ear- I don’t know, during an orgasm or something, ‘hey I’m a werewolf and you’re amazing at blowjobs’?!” 
> 
> “I mustn’t tell lies.”
> 
> “What are you talking about- oh fuck you, do you really think right now is the best time to pull off your crappy jokes?”
> 
> \--  
> In which Stiles finds out Derek is a werewolf through a series of unfortunate events, and then they share tender moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is less humor, and more of a relationship landmark. Much more fluff and sappiness in this one.

                Walking in on his boyfriend nuzzling some nameless girl on _his couch_ isn’t how he expected to end his finals day. In fact he’d been hoping for an alone, naked and horny boyfriend beckoning to him, not… _this._

                “… _Ahem._ ”

                The sluggish manner in which Derek opened his eyes really didn’t help his case. Did the jackass think he had the privilege to be sleepy and adorable? Because he didn’t. Stiles gave a grimace that was meant to be some sort of smile and dropped his book bag to the floor, rougher than he technically had to. That seemed to jerk Derek awake, and suddenly his usually suave and smooth man-lover was flailing to sit up, mouth already posed to say ‘It’s not what it looks like’, but unlucky for him, Stiles’ mouth was already firing a response to the unsaid statement.

                “Yeah, no, I’m pretty sure it is _exactly_ what it looks like.” Oh look, little miss Sleeping fucking Beauty was rousing too. “It _looks_ like I have a not so bright boyfriend cuddling a strange woman on my couch. Am I wrong?” He was already stomping past the couch to the kitchen. This was the perfect example of angry, comfort eating time. Stiles felt a throb of satisfaction as he heard the thump of Derek scrambling from the girl’s embrace and falling to the ground and then scampering after him to the kitchen.

                “No- well, it’s… complicated.” Derek plopped his mouth close at the vicious glare Stiles sent him.

                “ _Complicated?_ ”

                “Yes- complicated- she’s…uh, well, she’s special.”

                “ _Special?!”_

                “No- I mean- damnit, it’s a thing that I haven’t told you about-“

                “ _Haven’t told me about?!!”_

                “Stop doing that!”

                Stiles gave his variation of a snarl as he tore into an apple, savoring the badly hidden wince Derek gave at the loud crunch in the dead silence of the house. Distantly, the sound of a frantic woman trying to scramble out the front door was heard and Stiles’ head gave a sharp turn as he growled, “You. STAY.” And suddenly the scrambling ceased. Let it be known that he had refined his angry parent voice at a relatively young age, even Derek looked more than little uneasy.

                The tension was thick enough to serve as a spread on toast. No really, just a hint of lime and a whole lot of shit storm. Not a bad combination, bit rough on the palette but Derek deserved to eat shit anyway. Maybe it was wrong to be so angry. _Maybe_. But after barreling through five hours of college finals, which included Criminology and Statistics III, Stiles didn’t have much rationality left in him to function like a normal human being. 

                Silence.

                Someone gulped.

                “I’m waiting!” He barked out finally, flinging his apple’s remains into the trash angrily. If he had to describe Derek’s expression, it was similar to that of a frightened puppy when its mother gave it a stern growl. In fact, Derek’s metaphorical ears were pinned back and somehow he didn’t seem quite as threatening as he usually did in that moment. Finally, he snapped to attention when he realized this was his chance to explain, blurting uncharacteristically,

                “I’m a werewolf.”

                “ _Get_ _out!”_ And now he was furious, and Derek was ducting a fork and simultaneously trying to reach forward to calm Stiles, who was absolutely not having that. Reaching back, Stiles snatched the first utensil he could before stabbing it out threateningly, “Don’t come near me, you _ass_!” The effect was ruined when he glanced down and realized he was threatening his two hundred pound, lying possible ex-boyfriend with a plastic spoon.

                “No, I swear- really- listen to me! Put down the damn spoon!” And then the spoon was grabbed and thrown away from the flailing college student, “I’m not joking, I swear it’s true!”

                “Prove it.” He hissed, still trying to inch away from Derek, because at this point he wasn’t sure if the other was actually insane, or really douche enough to keep this running gag going.

                “Fine.” Wait what? What the hell did fine mean, there was no way he could prove- Oh my god.

                Stiles _absolutely_ did not shriek like a ten year old girl, nor did he try to sprint out of the kitchen like an Olympic track star. Alright, yeah, he tried. He was foiled by an exasperated hand clutching his upper arm and tugging him back.

                “This is why I haven’t told you, I knew you’d react like this.” He didn’t know what was odder, seeing the eyebrow man of his dreams without eyebrows, or hearing the strange lisp that Derek’s giant canine teeth caused. Managing to shake himself from his air-headed reveries, Stiles tried jerking his arm away pointlessly.

                “We’ve been dating for four freaking months! You couldn’t have just whispered in my ear- I don’t know, during an orgasm or something, ‘hey I’m a werewolf and you’re amazing at blowjobs’?!”

                “I mustn’t tell lies.”

                “What are you talking about- oh _fuck you_ , do you really think right now is the best time to pull off your crappy jokes?”

                Then Derek started playing dirty, that fucker. He shifted back to normal and crept forward like Stiles was an easily frightened animal before resting his hands gently on the other’s hips and pulling him forward just the right amount so that he could rest his forehead against his. Damnit, Derek _knew_ the tender shows of affection played with his mind, how dare he? But predictably, Stiles grumbled and tugged at the front of Derek’s shirt while pressing his forehead right back.

                “I know, I’m sorry, I’ll explain later. But I need you to trust me.” And _damnit all_ , Derek pulled out the smoldering eyes and Stiles felt his toes curl a little, “Just trust me to never hurt you with something like cheating, alright?”

                “I hate you.” But Stiles knew he’d lost this one. He shoved at Derek lightheartedly and sighed, “Just… I don’t know, go talk to her or whatever, she can go.” He mumbled, already bending into the fridge for more snacks.

**

                The incident surprisingly migrated to the back of Stiles’ mind for the next few days; he hadn’t actually meant to forget to worry about it. Mostly, it didn’t make much of a difference at all. With finals over and a few weeks of rest before the new semester, he was taking advantage and spending his time lazing around, working, and eating. Not to mention having copious sex with Derek, who was more than happy to oblige.

                But, seeing as life was a capricious bitch, after around two weeks of bliss, Stiles was forced to realize he was surrounded by idiots at work. Being a sales clerk for a store oriented for teenage girls and confused women was hard enough as it is, especially with the looks he had gotten. This week had been the worst though, maybe it was because awareness was rising, or ignorance in its place. Three times, every twenty minutes-

                “Oh my god, he’s cute!”

                “Shh, he might get insulted- I think he’s gay.”

                Which, _rude._ He was an openly equal opportunist, it’s a difference. And second, who the hell gets insulted when they’re complimented by a gender they don’t prefer?

                That wasn’t the worst of it, oh no. He had been planning to go to work, force a smile for eight hours, then run straight back into Derek’s arms, but his idiot coworkers forgot that he existed apparently. This was shown when he had gone to the back storage room to check for something that was meant to be in stock so he could reshelf when he heard the click of a door being locked. At first, being the optimist he was, he didn’t think that anyone was dumb enough to lock the door without checking. He kept looking before returning to leave and finding the large, steel enforced door to be locked. The worst part? The storage room was like a damn bomb shelter, and any hopes of calling for help were lost when he looked to see no bars. So he sat down and barely kept from having a panic attack, tucking his knees under his chin and waiting.

                He ended up falling asleep and waking up to the surprised shriek of some girl called Kristi who had been opening up and checking inventory at five am. Stiles had grunted a thank you and stumbled out before almost crashing on his way back to his house. His phone had been shrieking when it suddenly received twenty alerts, fifteen were from Derek. 

                It was when he pulled up in the driveway and saw Derek standing in the doorway with a worried expression that he realized he was in love. Being pulled tight against a warm body, lips pressed against his temple and soothing hands rubbing circles on his back really made a man wonder how he’d gotten so lucky. One misstep and he’d have been alone coming home from this hell. There would have been no one to tuck him into bed and whisper reassurances in his ear, or to give him some tea when he couldn’t sleep because he was still shaking a little.

                Then the internal fear bloomed as the realization struck him. He’d never meant to be so dependent. The thought of returning to an empty house once more was worse than being stuck in a storage room for a night. Losing Derek became an option he didn’t want to consider, or ever have to confront.

**

                That night, he lay curled up on Derek’s chest, half sliding off because despite not being the buffest man alive, he was still rather broad shouldered and could only act like a needy cat to such an extent. They were watching some generic show on…what was this? Disney Channel? Jesus. When Stiles glanced up, he could see that Derek’s eyes kept trailing down to stare down at him, and when caught in the act, Derek quickly averted his eyes once more back to the television. Oh, someone thought he was a smooth guy, huh?

                Stiles leaned up and began pressing kisses along Derek’s jaw line, smiling against his stubble when he felt the hand resting on his hip tighten slightly. When his nose brushed against Derek’s jugular, however, he felt the other tense, and glanced up. Derek looked at him with an expression no better described as conflict on whether to hide his neck with his chin or bare it freely.  It then occurred to Stiles the significance of the throat to a wolf, and his mind was processing, and he was leaning away, ready to sputter apologies if he had inadvertently offended his apparently werewolf boyfriend. He was stopped by the hand on his hip moving up to his upper arm. He looked up to realize that Derek had a smile on his lips as he tilted his face away, effectively baring his throat.

                God, he felt ridiculous, because suddenly everything around him was worthy of a freaking Taylor Swift song and a movie starring Ryan Gosling. He could feel his cheeks sting from the grin stretched on his face as he nuzzled against the exposed flesh. Stiles rested his hand on Derek’s chest, feeling the other shift and kiss him on top of his head. He hadn’t bothered with gelling it up today, so it lay flat. People didn’t see that often as it was mostly Derek’s privilege so he could kiss his head without getting stabbed in the face with hair.

 

                “We’re going to be okay.”

                It didn’t matter which one of them said it, because both of them relaxed like a weight had been lifted.

                


	4. Don't Tell Me to Shut Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd never meant to let it go so far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more violent, and more drama, than the other one shots. This one has more angst and general fighting while Derek and Stiles get it sorted out, so apologies if funny was what you were wanting. The next oneshot will be all giggles and fluff, promise.

                It wasn’t that he was _ignoring_ the werewolf thing, more like he was pretending it wasn’t real. It’s different. No, really, it is.

                It wasn’t weird that sometimes if they were having an argument (which occurred way too often) and Derek got pissed his eyes would glow that blue color.

                It wasn’t out of the ordinary that his sheets always had little tears in them from after rigorous sex with Derek.

 _It wasn’t_.                                                                            

                …

                God, who was he kidding? This was getting ridiculous. Specifically, it got ridiculous exactly two hours ago.

**

                “Derek, I can’t find the goddamn cereal, it’s not here!” Stiles huffed, muttering under his breath about never doing the grocery shopping for both of them ever again. This was one of the things they always argued about, their groceries. Derek just _had_ to prefer all the fancy, obscure foods made by small companies from fucking nowhere. They were also impossible to find- for Stiles only apparently.

_“I can hear you mumbling, Stiles.”_

                “Yeah well, good. Get your own damn cereal.”

_“I got your stupid organic carrots at the farmer’s market a week ago, just get me the cereal!”_

                “Fuck you, you ate all of my carrots- you just can’t admit you like them.”

_“Shut up.”_

                “Don’t tell me to shut up, Derek!”

_“All you have to do-“_

                Derek’s voice cut off with a clatter when Stiles flailed and dropped his phone after running right into a stranger. He sputtered apologies, bending down to get it before straightening quickly for more apologies, feeling even more like a shit when he realized the guy was blind too.

                “Oh, jeez- I’m sorry, I really wasn’t looking where I was going and-“, Stiles didn’t bother answering Derek’s impatient barks, figuring the asshole could hear him apologizing anyway.

                “It’s quite fine.” Oh, the guy looked pretty crusty, but his voice was soft like an angel’s ass, what was with that? Stiles blinked when he got a firm pat on the shoulder from the stranger. “Such a young man shouldn’t be so troubled. I do hope you have a good day.” And a pat on the head finished that conversation. Stiles stared after the retreating blind guy like an idiot before shaking his head. Weird old guys, of course he’d meet them at Wal-Mart.  

 _“Stiles!”_ Great, now Derek had an angry stick up his ass.

                “What?!” He probably could’ve asked that nicer, but Derek’s voice was starting to grate on his freaking nerves. All the guy knew how to do was nag when things didn’t go his way.

 _“Don’t take that tone with me.”_ And now Derek was his father, dandy.

                “I’ll talk to you how I want, you prick.” He hung up so he wouldn’t have to deal with Derek’s fury. He didn’t know how things got so bad. One second it’s all cuddles and smiles, the next they were damn ready to claw each other’s faces off. Stiles sighed, running a hand through his hair before noticing the cereal. It had been right in front of him the entire freaking time. With a grunt that rivaled Derek’s, he swiped it from the shelf and stomped over to checkout.

               

**

                He was _so_ not looking forward to Derek’s ‘I’m brooding because of you’ face. Stiles slammed the door on his way out the car and before he even got to the front door, it snapped open to reveal a fuming werewolf. Fuck.

                “H-hey...” Stiles waved weakly and lifted up the bag, “Found your cereal?”

                “What is that.” Suddenly, his boyfriend of six months had reverted back to a caveman with the inability to form questions, as well as actually letting people walk into their own home as Derek effectively dragged Stiles inside.

                “Uh- your cereal? I literally just told you-“

                “Not that. That.” Stiles made a face when Derek aggressively shoved his nose against his neck and then his head, letting out a low pitched growl. Any other day, seriously, _any other day_ , and it would be hot as fuck, but right now it was just disconcerting. “Who touched you.”

                “Am I not allowed to be touched by anything living now?” He jerked away from Derek, giving him a glare of his own, “I don’t freaking know, I get touched often. I don’t remember every single person who brushes against me, Mr. Possessive Bastard.” Not the brightest thing to say to a werewolf, the day of the full moon, especially when he’s already on edge about something. Being slammed against a wall is also not the best feeling in the world, and he scrambled against Derek’s rough grip on his arms.

                “Who. Was. It.” He was already half shifted, his teeth bared and eyes aglow with fury, and Stiles barely kept himself from groveling right then and there because- what the fuck is this, Derek was his _boyfriend._ Not his gang leader.

                “Get _off me._ ” Stiles hissed, kneeing Derek right between the legs- which surprisingly worked. The werewolf backed off, a pained look of surprise on his face while Stiles himself patted off his clothes. “I’m staying with Scott. Once you decide to not be a complete fuckface, give me a call, ‘kay?” Technically, this was his house, so he should be kicking Derek out, but even he knew his limitations with an irritable werewolf. Anyhow, with one more scowl, he flung the cereal box at Derek and left. He made sure to slam every door possible, and might have purposely peeled out of the driveway just to make Derek wince.

 

**

 

That’s when the ridiculous started, around the time he realized that trying to ignore the whole werewolf thing was ruining the relationship he’d really hoped on saving.

                So this? This right now? This was fucked up.  And by this, he meant being dragged out of his own home by a creepy foot lady with large nostrils and two homoerotic twins. Oh, did he forget to mention that? Well, now it was mentioned.

                Imagine his surprise when he was shoved into a chair and tied down, only to come face to face with the crusty blind guy from Wal-Mart. If he had been able to talk, he would’ve blurted out many obscenities about never trusting old men again, but alas, they had preemptively gagged him. They didn’t even talk, the creep just smirked at him before the other assholes flashed their eyes like those light up sketchers kids wore in first grade. And then he was alone.

                Now, this was contemplation hour. He was kidnapped by werewolves, on a full moon. He also told his crazy boyfriend that he was staying at Scott’s. Fuck. The likeliness of Derek actually _showing up_ was extremely low, like God descending from the heavens and saying “You fucked up, bro”. Stiles let his eyes roll up heaven bound for a moment to glare at the ceiling of the damp warehouse before he slumped. The familiar unease curling in his stomach was enough for him to realize that this was too much. He was an anxiety ridden college student with enough issues as it is, and here he was getting kidnapped by _werewolves_.

                With a panic attack hovering just under his skin, Stiles eyed the door, waiting, mostly hoping, for someone to come and at least talk like an evil villain so he could get his mind off being kidnapped and possibly soon murdered. Of course, no one came, not a villain, and not a hero. What the fuck.

                He’d just save himself, fuck everybody, he wasn’t Princess Peach. Stiles tried wiggling out of his ropes, and that was a no. Apparently, werewolves were also boy scouts, goddamnit. He furrowed his brow in frustration and next attempted to loosen the gag because he did _not_ want to be seen gagged, that was just humiliating. Thank the lord for his hollow cheeks and strangely malleable mouth, because he was able to spit out the balled up rag.

                Not ten minutes later, the door was literally ripped from its hinges. At first, he expected it to be Derek, because that’s where his romantic mind went. But, it in fact was that lady who had been sleeping with Derek on his couch all those weeks ago. What the fuck.

                “I appreciate the door breaking, but what the fuck are you doing here?” So obviously she was a werewolf. But why was she _here_. The blonde gave a sultry look and stalked over, cutting the ropes with her claws and jerking Stiles up to stand. “Woah there, gentle with the goods, I’m already bruised up like a banana.” He stumbled along with her as she peered out the door.

                “I’m Erica. We went to high school together. Now shut up.” _What_. This was Erica _Reyes_?! Holy shit, she sure cleaned up nice. He also decidedly did _not_ recall her being a werewolf. Oh, and there was blood everywhere, ew, and he was queasy and he really did not want to be here. She pushed him out a back entrance, the sound of vicious fighting echoing out front. He could almost hear the wet tearing of flesh, and oh joy time for dry heaves. “Stay here.” And then she was gone, running off in the direction of the fighting.

                “Wait- fuck, is Derek fighting too?!” And fuck that, he wasn’t going to wait around while his boyfriend gets torn to shreds. He then proceeded to run after her, moving to hide behind the corner of a wall before peeking out to the scene, which was _gruesome_. Also, Cora was fighting, along with some other lady, big guy and _was that Isaac_?! His mouth was hanging open in complete disbelief. The fucker was a werewolf! _How._ Add Derek, who was fighting alongside- that was Laura, not some lady. Laura, as in the smiling lady who was supposed to be in New York right now and had talked to Stiles once on the phone.

                Next thing he knew, Derek’s head was snapping in his direction, and Laura was barking orders. They dispersed and started running… towards him?! Stiles squeaked and turned, ready to get the hell out of there, until Derek decided to heave him over his shoulder.

“Hey!” Stiles squawked, not exactly ecstatic about being thrown over his boyfriend’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

 

**

                “What the hell was _that_?!” Literally all he was doing nowadays was asking scared and angry questions.

                “The Alpha pack.” Thank you, Laura, for actually answering his question unlike the broody Derek sitting right next to him like a stiff board.

                “And _why_ did the “Alpha pack” decide to kidnap little ol’ me while I was watching the season finale of The Office?!”

                 “To get our attention- look, Stiles, I understand, you’re really angry, this won’t happen again.” Oh, she was _soothing_ now was she? Sadly, he was hoping to find that quality in his goddamn boyfriend, who was still quiet, and staring angrily at his feet.

                “You’re damn right it won’t happen again. Also- since when is everyone I know a werewolf?! Is Allison a werewolf too? Is my dad a werewolf? Am I secretly a werewolf?! I thought I could be okay with this Derek-“ Yes, now he was going at his silent eyebrow man, “I was really trying to respect your boundaries, and let you talk when you wanted, and not push you- even though, fuck you know it’s in my nature to freaking _need_ to know things. But, Jesus, Derek- why the hell would you keep me so in the dark? The fuck, man?” And he was furious, he really was. Pack? They had those? Alphas, those were real? What the fuck was Derek then? Who were these people? Were they a pack? Was Erica another sister? _He couldn’t tell_.

                “Derek.” The quiet statement had an air of command, and suddenly the silent statue jerked to life and he just nodded at Laura. The rest of the others filed out without another word, leaving Derek alone with Stiles in the comfort of their home.

                “Stiles, I…” Derek looked pained beyond all reason, possibly because he had a claw mark on the side of his torso, but it looked to be from something else. “I never meant for things to go so far.”

                “Excuse me?” Stiles straightened up and glared, turning so he was completely facing Derek, “Are you saying you meant for this to be a wham bam thank you ma’am, because I can fucking tell you that dating for months and moving in together isn’t how you do it.”

                “No- I- I meant, I didn’t mean for you not to know about the pack I just…” The sigh Derek let out was so weary and tired that Stiles almost felt bad for demanding so much, “I’ve never let anyone so close since…since I was younger- and it ended badly. I just needed time, and then this happened, and we were fighting all the time. I feel like nothing is ever going to go right for us.” _Well shit Derek, tell me how you really feel_. 

                This situation was certainly not normal, so maybe it was time he didn’t react to it like he normally would. Putting on his big boy pants, Stiles reached out nervously and wrapped his arms around the other, feeling like an absolute ass when he felt Derek stiffen in surprise. Had they gotten so bad? Had their relationship grown so strained that it was basically just arguments and angry sex every other week? He didn’t want to answer that question, because the truth was horrific. Releasing a slow breath, Stiles pressed his face into Derek’s neck, “I’m sorry. For everything. This- I was just so angry, not knowing something so big about you. I hate ignoring things I don’t know anything about, and I ended up taking it out on you, and I’m so fucking sorry, Derek.”

                He could feel the moment all the fight left the werewolf, his shoulders relaxing, and his arms tightening around Stiles. There was no more verbal apology from Derek, but he could feel the regret and the solemnity with each soft kiss pressed to his cheek and upturned nose.

                “We’ll make it okay again, I know we can.” He pulled back and gripped Derek by the upper arm gently, “Just tell me everything. And I mean _everything_.”

                The only response was a small nod, and then Derek opened his mouth, “I was sixteen when I first met Kate…”

 


	5. Spooning Chainsaws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're getting better, this time for the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I didn't really have much motivation to write after the fifth chapter I was writing for this got deleted thanks to my shitty computer. But now I've rewritten it, and this might be it for another few weeks unless I get a sudden epiphany on what else to add.
> 
> This is mostly fluff and a wrap up. I'll add more oneshots later on about their lives.

            Obviously they didn’t snap back to perfect right away. There was still strain, but now they had a way to work on it. Now, Stiles made an honest effort not to respond to everything Derek said with snide remarks or sarcasm, and in return his werewolf boyfriend didn’t go caveman when he was angry or clam up like chowder.

            Their newest method to help their differences was talking out issues and arguments without being unnecessarily cruel. It was proving to be difficult, but when weren’t relationships?

**

            “I’m angry because you didn’t fold the laundry.” Derek stated calmly, staring at Stiles across the dinner table.

            “Uh huh,” Stiles checked that box on the step by step “Marriage Saver” worksheet. They weren’t married, but it still applied to most of their issues, save for Derek’s monthly gift from nature. “And why does that make you angry?” He asked as soothingly as he could. The corners of his lips quivered in barely restrained amusement when Derek gritted his teeth.

            “Because I always fold the laundry. I was gone for the whole day, I came back, and I just wanted to pull on my favorite sweats and relax- but no, Mr. Lazyfuck who didn’t even have class that day couldn’t get off his ass for a few minutes to freaking-“

            “Ah, ah, ah!” Stiles interrupted, shoving the worksheet in Derek’s face, “No cursing, name calling or aggressive accusations. It detracts from the learning experience.” There was nothing but satisfaction at the sight of Derek’s face morphing from disbelief to pained acceptance that he had chosen to date Stiles.

            “Why couldn’t you have just done the laundry, Stiles?” Derek sighed with a level of weariness that Stiles felt should offend him somehow. Instead, it just made him feel slightly guilty. He checked the box next to “Anger has become resignation”.

            “Well I mean…” His eyes flicked up to the ceiling as he licked his lips slowly, searching for an appropriate answer, “I forgot?” He finally settled with, shrugging helplessly.

            “You _forgot_?” Derek’s offended look was kind of funny, his eyebrows were arched and one was jettisoned up like a rocket ready to launch, “Well, that just makes everything okay, doesn’t it? When I forget to pay the bills, cook dinner, and fix your piece of shit jeep I’ll just say it slipped my mind-“

            “Don’t talk about Roscoe like that!” Stiles protested, slamming his pen down on the table, “And don’t sass me, I forgot, it’s not a crime.”

            “It should be when you forget to do everything.” Derek growled, leaning forward, “Like always forgetting to put the dishes in the dishwasher. It’s not that fucking hard, Stiles!”

            “Yeah? You think you’re almighty and never making mistakes?” Stiles leaned forward as well, “Let’s talk about the fact that you eat in the bed. I don’t like finding crumbs in my ass crack, Derek.”

            “You snore like a walrus, I can’t sleep, I end up dreaming that I’ve got a chainsaw trying to spoon me.”

            “You forget to clip your freakishly quick growing toenails and I don’t have to dream to know what spooning a chainsaw feels like.”

            “I can’t stand it when you eat burritos because you fart like nobody’s business and then pretend the house is haunted with a rude ghost afterwards.”

            “At least I don’t preen in front of a mirror when I think I’m alone. Self-obsessed much?” Stiles smirked when Derek flushed with embarrassment.

            “You said you were showering.” He hissed, fingers digging into the mahogany wood of the table.

            “I _lied_ , of course I lied! You were getting undressed, I wanted to look at your perfect ass, and apparently you did too!” Stiles retorted, looking away and noticing that the paper had slipped to the floor. Before he could reach down to get it, however, Derek was gripping his shirt and tugging him over the table again, the edge digging a little painfully into his crotch.

            “You think my ass is perfect?” Derek asked with a seriousness usually reserved for the news of a dead relative.

            “Uh, duh.” Stiles snorted, “I mean, you’ve seen it, you know it’s nice, and round and lusc-woahmm…” Lips were mashing against his, and then Derek was dragging him over the table top, picking him up like he weighed nothing. He scrambled in a manner akin to a cockroach, gripping at the other’s shoulders as he adjusted to the kiss. Stiles snickered when he felt Derek shove his hands down his pants and grind against him. “Makeup sex it is.”

 

**

 

            “Stiles!”

            “Yeah?”

            “Really?”

            Stiles looked back from his position in the kitchen, trying not to make eye contact with his currently surly boyfriend. “The worksheet said it was time to spice things up.” He mumbled, biting his lip to keep from giggling like an idiot.

            “So…what? You’d get me a candy thong and a muzzle-shaped ball gag and I’d just bend over and pant?” Derek snapped, holding up the offensive objects. His eye twitched when Stiles started choking on his laughter. “This isn’t funny, Stiles.” He growled.

            “Says you!” Stiles finally gave up any pretense and reared back with laughter, “Y-your face!”

            “It’s the one I make before I strangle loudmouthed twinks.” He dropped the toys, stalking towards Stiles. Said twink squawked at the label, looking ready to fight about it until Derek reached out and dragged his pants down, took a picture, then walked away.

            “Did you just pants me?” Stiles gaped after Derek, looking like a fool with his pants on the ground. “That’s not even funny!”

            “Says you.” Derek called back.

 

            Needless to say, the healing process was a long and arduous one, filled with many pranks, several headaches, and plenty of makeup sex.

 

**

            Stiles hummed generic pop songs under his breath while his hands chopped tomatoes for the large batch of homemade salsa. He’d gotten a call from Derek an hour ago, basically begging for him to make it. It was odd, but not the oddest thing about his boyfriend by far. He stopped the knife when he heard the front door open, turning just in time to meet Derek’s lips.

            “Hey,” Derek murmured, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, “Thanks for starting on the salsa on such short notice, I actually wanted to ask something.” He slid the knife out of Stiles’ hands gingerly and placed it out of reach. He’d learned the hard way how accident prone Stiles could be with his uninhibited flailing.

            “What’s wrong?” Stiles’ eyes glanced at the knife before training on Derek, “I didn’t piss you off again somehow, did I? Because I swear it’s been like a day and I’ve been pretty chill-“

            “It’s not that.” He smiled, leaning in and pressing another kiss to Stiles’ temple, “Laura wanted to talk to you, so she invited us to dinner.”

            “Huh…” Stiles nodded, “And you made me make my salsa because you’ve been bragging about it obnoxiously again. Every time you and the betas meet up, you try to prove who has the better love bug.” Derek glared at him for that, unsurprisingly. In return, Stiles gave a pleased smirk and shoved Derek out of the kitchen, “Go get ready, you look too hot. I don’t wanna get a boner in front of nosy werewolves.”

            They ended up being late anyway because Derek had yelled for Stiles to come help scrub his back in the shower and then it all went downhill from there. Staring into Laura’s amused, knowing eyes made Stiles’ inner modest maiden want to deny and cry, while his alter ego frat boy wanted to waggle his eyebrows. He ended up doing the latter and barely dodging Derek’s halfhearted swat.

            After a hearty meal, filled with poorly masked innuendos and familial laughter, Laura snuck Stiles away after just about ordering everyone else to clean up. Derek looked like he wanted to follow, but a stern glance from his older sister kept him at the sink washing dishes. Stiles sat on the couch, the nerves that had been dulled by the relaxing dinner surged up with a vengeance. Laura reached over and placed a calming hand on his, “Calm down, I’m not angry at you or anything.” She chuckled, which helped a little.

            “So, what’s with the…?” He waved his hand to reference the dinner and minor intervention in one.

            “I think it’s time you understood your place.” Laura stated honestly, backtracking when she saw apprehension begin building in Stiles, “Not like that, I mean in the pack.” At Stiles’ dumbfounded look, she continued, “You’ve been dating Derek for nearly a year now, been living with him for half of one, and you’ve been integrated into the supernatural ever since the kidnapping, it’s impossible for you to not be seen as pack now.”

            “You mean I don’t have to do any weird crap? Like blood rituals or find the holy grail?” Stiles inquired with a cautiousness he’d learn to use for the past few months.

            “Other than coming back to family reunions with Derek and meeting our parents, you don’t have to jump through any other hoops.” Laura laughed before pausing and leaning forward, the lightheartedness gone within a second, “But know that if you betray us, you hurt him- some way that can’t be fixed, I’ll tear you apart.” She murmured in a soft tone that sent shivers down Stiles’ spine. He could see why she was the Alpha. He nodded quickly, and she smiled almost immediately. “Perfect. Now, the real reason I wanted to talk. Have you ever heard of an emissary?”


	6. Doing Laundry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles and Derek learn to compromise about the laundry at least.
> 
>  
> 
> (And I finally attempt to write smut. THIS CHAPTER IS BASICALLY SMUT, WHICH IS WHY ITS SO SHORT, NOT A LEGIT ONESHOT, JUST AN IDEA I HAD. Also it comes with artwork. Oho)

                “Fuck, Stiles!”

                For once, it wasn’t an angry exclamation, but quite the opposite. Derek threw back his head, a needy whine leaving him as he jerked his hips forward helplessly. Stiles was elusive and an asshole however, because he simply shifted back, keeping only the tip of Derek in his mouth and teasing it with his tongue. His hand was running up and down the rest of the other’s throbbing dick, squeezing it lightly when Derek made another impatient noise.

                “Stop teasing me and get on with it.” Derek huffed, lolling his head back and letting it rest on the couch behind them. As soon as he seemed resigned enough to give up begging, Stiles slid down and deep throated the other, swallowing and sucking hard enough that Derek nearly fell over sideways from the way his body shuddered. 

                He never used to be loud during sex, but then well- Stiles happened.

                Derek threaded his fingers into the other’s unruly hair, tugging on it insistently. Finally, he pulled back until Derek’s glistening head was brushing against his lips again; he flicked his tongue against the slit just to see the abs in front of him ripple. The tugging resumed, and Stiles glanced up and watched Derek’s face melt into pleasure as he sank down once more, not stopping until he felt the other hit the back of his throat. He started bobbing his head, the slurping sounds and unabashed gaze so indecent that Derek had to close his eyes to keep from shooting down Stiles’ throat.

                He gulped when he felt hand rubbing up and down his inner thighs, one slipping down further to press lightly against his hole. Derek licked his dry lips, a guttural moan squeezing out of him as he pressed into Stiles’ finger. In response, Stiles lifted his hand up and pressed it inside Derek’s mouth, the silent order of “suck” obvious. Derek obeyed without a second thought, grateful for the distraction. He ran his tongue along the slender digits, worshipping them and sucking fervently, making an almost disgruntled noise when Stiles pulled them out, but then gasping when a wet digit wriggled inside him.

                “Fuck, fuck….Stiles, god-“Derek’s hand tightened its hold on Stiles’ hair, hips rocking with each slick slide of his mouth on his cock and twist of his finger. “I can’t- Stiles,” Derek whimpered, his eyes shut, body jerking as it alternated from grinding into the other’s hand and thrusting into the willing mouth wrapped around him. “Please, let me- let me come.”

                Stiles pulled back, letting the other’s pulsing cock slide out of his mouth, “It’s okay, c’mon, fuck my mouth.” He murmured in a sinfully husky voice, his finger still curling slowly against Derek’s prostate. Derek nearly came, but he let out a shaky breath and pulled Stiles’ head forward, cradling it with his hand. He pressed his tip past the beautiful parted lips, wanting to be gentle but then Stiles jammed his finger hard inside him. Derek growled, nails digging into the carpet as he began jerking his hips forward.

                He drove his cock in and out of Stiles’ relaxed mouth, careful not to hit his throat too hard, but taking what was offered to him thoroughly. The sight of those lips stretched taut around his flesh was exhilarating, and it only took seconds and another jab from Stiles’ finger before Derek was crying out his release. His body tensed, every muscle rigid and clenching as he shot his load down Stiles’ throat, gripping the other’s hair so tightly and close that he felt Stiles’ wet eyelashes fluttering against his abdomen.

                Derek’s mind was a pleasured haze, his orgasm wrenching through him as he kept on coming. It was only Stiles’ tapping that reminded him that the other needed to breathe, and he relaxed his grip. Stiles pulled back and rested his cheek against Derek’s thigh, panting and licking his swollen lips. Derek reached down and brushed a stray tear away, calming his own breaths. He felt Stiles slide the finger out, and tugged him up, kissing him and reveling in the taste of himself on the other’s tongue.

                He ran his hand up and down Stiles’ back, hugging him close while the other peppered little kisses upon his stubble covered cheeks. Stiles pulled away enough to nuzzle his face into the crook of Derek’s neck, mouthing at the skin there while they cuddled.

 

***

                Derek grunted when Stiles slumped against him, cooing at him as he folded clothes. He had a surly expression on his face, but the telltale blush on his cheeks gave him away while Stiles chattered about everything and anything. At one point, Stiles paused and grinned at the other, and at Derek’s deadpan “What” responded with, “I just love compromise, don’t you?”

…

….

                “Can we call it blow your load for doing a load?”

                “No, Stiles.”


End file.
